Crossing The River
by the ticking clock
Summary: Will Herondale stands by the river in the land of the dead, and waits. Drabble. Inspired by the amazing artwork of Cassandra Jean.


**Inspired by this wonderful piece of fanart by Cassandra Jean: user/shadowhunterCC/media/cast/fanart/jemandwill_ .html?t=1365648850**

The river is rushing past him, he is crying, and Jem is not there.

Will Herondale stands on the bank and stares out at the stretch of endless land in front of him. He doesn't know what to do, where to go or who to follow. The last thing he can remember is the gentle pressure of Jem's cold fingers on his and Tessa's sweet voice in his ear. And then he let himself drift and fall and flow and suddenly he found himself here.

At the river.

Waiting to cross.

There's a raft, and somehow he knows he's supposed to take it, take it and sail off across that distant horizon. Because he's dead.

_By the Angel. He's __**dead. **_

The thought sends a thrill of terror through him, like the sharp, cutting edge of a knife, and he shivers.

In truth, he knows he had a good life. A wonderful family, a loving wife (he'd lived past nineteen much to Gabriel's surprise), and in the end he'd been with his _parabatai _again.

But still. He doesn't want to go on.

"Jem," he whispers, and the name echoes and ripples throughout the endless stretch of land, bounces off the river and hisses soft syllables and sobs into his ears: _jemjemejemejemejem. _

With sudden clarity he remembers the dagger and cutting his hand, blood mixing with rainwater and his faded parabatai rune so many years ago-

_We'll cross the river together. _

_ If there is a life after this one, let me meet you in it, James Carstairs. _

Will takes a deep breath. With one hand he reaches up and wipes the tears from his face, with the other he presses a clenched fist to the still-faded but not gone, _parabatai _mark just above his heart. "Death will not part us, Jem Carstairs," the vow is heard only by his own ears and the splashing river, but there is a sense of peace when he says it, so he promises, "Ever,"

So Will Herondale stands by the river in the land of the dead, and waits.

* * *

Jem's first impression of death is mist.

It coils around him like the sweet laughter of a child, stroking his hair and breathing song into his being. _Music. _How he missed music when he was a Silent Brother for all those years. Tessa had taught him how to appreciate it again...

Oh, God.

_Tessa. _

For a brief, wild moment, he thinks that he can get back to her. That he can just turn around and walk back into the mortal world, find her and sweep her up into his arms, hold her while she told him stories of Will and their children.

Her name tingles on his lips and he turns-

And he sees the raft and the river.

He thinks of Will, so many years ago, whispering, _If there is a life after this one..._

Jem breathes out sharply in a sound that might be a laugh or a sob or a scream he can't tell. He doesn't know if this is another life or if it's death or if he is simply dreaming but he _hopes. _Oh, he hopes-

He runs to the raft and pushes it into the water.

The ride is gentle and rocking, and Jem gets the feeling that his water craft is steering itself. The river often changes direction like an ordinary river shouldn't, but he doesn't question it-

And then, after nearly one-hundred and fifty years, he hears his name.

"James!"

Tessa had always called him Jem. Magnus had occasionally called him James, but not like Will. Not with that careful mixture of love and friendship and exasperation. Not in that loud, clear voice-

"Will?" He breaths, "Will is that you?"

The boat rocks suddenly under him, and he spreads his arms to keep his balance, looking up through eyes blurred with tears and the spray of river water and mist and he sees-he _sees-_

_ "James!"_

Will.

Will is staring at him from across the river. Not old Will. Not the dying man Jem had played to sleep so many years earlier. This was his _parabatai. _Dark, dark hair that curled around his ears, flushed cheeks, and clear blue eyes that spoke of mischief and hardship and longing.

_Will. _

Jem doesn't know what to say. What to do. He is aware that the raft is hitting sand and shoreline and that he is standing, hands at his sides, mouth open in shock. His throat is burning and his cheeks are wet, and Will, Will is _here. _

Will grins at him. That old smile that always meant they were about to go on a marvelous hunt or adventure. He holds out his hand.

Jem reaches for him. Will's grip is sure and strong and so _familiar. _

He's crying too. Jem can see the tears on his cheeks. When Will yanks him off the boat and pulls him into his arms, Jem can feel his brother shaking.

Jem buries his face in Will's shoulder and breathes in the scent of him-rainwater and London and old books-and relaxes. For so many years, he'd felt a part of his soul missing, a part of him that he'd searched for and never been able to find. His _parabatai. _

"Finally," Will whispers, "Finally..."

As always, Jem knows instantly what he means.

Finally, _finally _they aren't alone anymore. Their souls are whole.

Finally, they can cross this river into the next life and see where this new adventure takes them.

"Tessa?" Will asks when they finally pull apart.

Jem offers him a smile and shakes his head. "Magnus will look after her. And she's a strong one, our Tessa."

Will grins. "That she is. Well?" He sweeps back his arm, indicating that Jem step in front of him. "Shall we?"

It is an easy pattern, and Jem falls into the old habit-guarding Will's back. "I'll watch behind you," he teases, "since you never look."

When Will laughs, they could have been boys again. They _were _boys again...they were going to cross this river together and be reborn or rest, wherever they were led. It did not matter. They would do it like they had done everything in life, together.

Jem steps up to the banks of the river. The water brushes his toes. Will walks so he is up to his ankles, the current bending and swirling around him as if he is at the center of a tornado or a whirlpool. He looks back of his shoulder at Jem, eyes luminescent, face glowing and burning with boyish excitement and ancient exhaustion. "Are you ready, James?" He asks.

Jem doesn't say anything. He knows he really doesn't need too. He walks so he and his _parabatai _are side by side in the churning water and puts a hand on Will's shoulder. "Lead the way, William."

So they cross the river together and journey into the next life. Together, as they always should be. Because when two souls are knit they stay together on the wheel and across the river.

And, Jem and Will have to admit, their are no other souls more closely bound than those of James Carstairs and Will Herondale. They were blood brothers, _parabatai. _They had sworn when they were children never to leave each other, and in the end, they never did.

And that was how it should be.


End file.
